


Pleasures Remain (So Does the Pain)

by thensepia



Series: Werelocks in Love [2]
Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Bisexual Male Character, Blow Jobs, Consensual Kink, Fellatio, M/M, Pansexual Character, Randall rejects the construct of shame, Randall's safeword is CINNAMON, Spanking, Teacher/Student Roleplay, Werewolves in Love, bi randall carpio, bisexual randall carpio, in my headcanon for whatever reason Randall likes flavored lube, pan Hamish Duke, safeword, technically not safe sex but WEREWOLVES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-28 04:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30134121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thensepia/pseuds/thensepia
Summary: Basically a highly porntastic thought experiment about what a relationship between these two could look like.(SPOILER: It could look HOT. Can you think of anything Randall wouldn't be up to try??? I MEAN, I ASK YOU.)[Title from Depeche Mode, "Enjoy the Silence"]
Relationships: Randall Carpio/Hamish Duke
Series: Werelocks in Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2230773
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. Transgression/ Punishment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeyAfrica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyAfrica/gifts).



“You may have encountered some of these principles if you’ve ever had the misfortune to read Ayn Rand, but Rand’s philosophy embodies a fundamental misunderstanding of the real tenets of Stoicism. The Stoics were, above all, concerned with _virtue,_ a concept that’s never given any concern in her so-called ‘Objectivist’ philosophy.” Hamish recognized the distain in his own voice even as he turned to the whiteboard behind him and, in a blocky print, wrote

> **_LOGIC_ **
> 
> **_PHYSICS_ **
> 
> **_ETHICS_ **

in all caps. He snapped the lid back on the marker and turned back to the class. “These were the three basic tenets of the Stoic philosophy. _Logic_ is fairly self-explanatory in this context, but who can tell me what they meant when they referred to _physics_?”

Nobody raised a hand. A few students were gazing out the window, where the early snow that had threatened all day had just begun to fall. One was furtively texting under the desk, and another was asleep, propped up on his elbow with his mouth half open.

“Come on, guys, this was in your reading for today.” Still only blank stares. With a small sigh, he flipped open his folder to consult the class roster so he could put an unlucky student on the spot. Sitting on top of the roll, however, was a folded sheet of notebook paper that he didn’t recognize. He flipped it open to take a quick glance, and he immediately recognized Randall’s near-illegible scrawl.

It read:

> _Dear Professor Duke,_
> 
> _I realize that my scholastic performance may have recently suffered as a result of my extensive extra-curricular activities and commitments. Your opinion of the work I do is of utmost importance to me. I’d love to meet with you after this class to discuss any potential opportunities you might have for me to earn my way into your good graces. I’m especially interested in any extra credit work that you might have for me. I think you’ll find me extremely willing to please._
> 
> _I’ll be eagerly waiting in your office._
> 
> _Naked._
> 
> _Yours,_
> 
> _R_

Hamish flashed momentarily on a very clear, very _detailed_ mental image of Randall, naked and smiling and bent over his office desk, and a small breath punched out of him. As he stared at the words, they fluttered and faded out, leaving the paper blank. He inadvertently crumpled the note in his hand as he absently wondered what kind of incantation Randall might have used for that trick.He quickly slipped the paper into his pocket, his eyes darting up to his still-indifferent class. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, echoing the heat pooling in his groin as his cock filled.

 _Naked,_ Randall had written. _In his office._

Hamish stepped abruptly behind the lectern, adjusting himself in what he hoped was a surreptitious manner as he flipped the folder closed with the other hand and slid it back inside his satchel. “Well, do the reading for next week,” he said, shouldering his bag and arranging it to hide his cock, which was rapidly tenting the front of his slim trousers. “Class dismissed!” he called over his shoulder as he strode out of the room, unconcerned about the confusion he no doubt left in his wake.

He bypassed the elevator and hurried to the stairwell, his long legs taking the stairs two at a time. He burst out of the stairwell and rounded the corner. The hallway was empty, so rather than fumble in his bag for his keys, he waved his hand, throwing the lock open with magic.

The Order, for all the chaos it caused in his life, did come with some perks.

As he stepped inside the doorway, he came to a sudden halt in the threshold, momentarily dumbstruck at the image that greeted him: one Randall Carpio, with his long limbs and olive skin and infuriating smirk, stretched out across the surface of his oak desk, propped up on one elbow, completely nude, and, from all immediate appearances, _extremely_ happy to see Hamish.

“Hey, Professor Duke,” Randall said, grinning. It was enough to snap Hamish back into motion; waving the door closed behind him and dropping his bag, he walked toward Randall slowly, forcing an appearance of calm that he in no way genuinely felt.

Randall’s eyes tracked Hamish as he walked around the side of the desk, and Randall rolled gracefully over to face him as Hamish came around behind it. Taking care not to hurry, he pulled his desk chair back and sat, holding Randall’s gaze as he did so. _That might have been a tactical error,_ Hamish thought, realizing this put him directly at eye level with Randall’s very hard, very distracting cock.

He cleared his throat. “Mr. Carpio. I got your note,” he said, his voice tight.

Randall’s grin turned lascivious. “I’m really eager to do _whatever_ I can to improve my grade,” he said, trailing one hand slowly down his waist and over his hip, his fingertips just grazing his skin.

Hamish narrowed his eyes. Affecting a mock-stern tone, he replied, “Mr. Carpio, the biggest impediment to your… _success_ in my class is your lack of discipline.”

Randall bit his lip, his eyes growing hooded. “Maybe _you_ could discipline me, Professor Duke.”

Hamish clenched his jaw, trying not to show just how much that idea excited him. “Ask me nicely,” he said, his voice tense.

Randall lay his head on his bicep, his arm cradling the back of his head and his hips tilting forward. “Please, Professor Duke,” he said in a breathy voice.

“Again,” Hamish ground out.

“ _Please,”_ Randall said, genuine need threading through his voice, “please spank me, Professor Duke.”

Hamish stood. He pressed a palm to his cock, enjoying the feeling of Randall’s gaze tracking the movement. He cleared his throat and Randall’s eyes jumped back to his. “Bend over the desk, Mr. Carpio. Your ass toward me.”

Randall rolled off the desk like his limbs were made of liquid, and he draped himself across the surface, leaning on his elbows. Hamish stepped closer and put his hands on either side of Randall, caging him in. “Chest flat to the desk, Mr. Carpio,” he said softly. “Grasp the far edge.”

Randall whimpered quietly, a small, needy noise that set Hamish’s blood on fire, and he complied with Hamish’s command, his body stretching out beautifully under him. Hamish gently trailed his knuckles down Randall’s spine, turning his hand over to stroke over the swell of his ass, his fingertips tracing where the small of his back met his gluteus medius, the name of which he only knew from helping Randall study for anatomy. Randall arched slightly into his touch, and Hamish paused for just a moment to appreciate the sight laid out in front of him.

“Is this the kind of discipline you think you need, Mr. Carpio?” he murmured, his palm resting against Randall’s ass, the weight of it like a promise.

Randall hummed. “ _Yeeesss,_ Professor.”

“What’s your safeword?” he asked, voice low but firm.

“ _Cinnamon_.” He could hear the grin in Randall’s reply.

Hamish stepped to the side, resting one hand on the small of Randall’s back, the other cupping his right ass cheek, kneading the muscle gently. “I think ten should be enough to bring your grade up to an A. What do you think, Mr. Carpio?”

“Mmm. _Please,_ yes, Professor Duke.”

Hamish grinned. “Count them off.” Then he drew his hand back and brought it back down sharply against Randall’s ass.

Randall gasped and ground his hips against the desk. “One.”

Hamish drew back, aiming for the other cheek, his fingers striking the fleshiest part. Randall’s ass bounced deliciously under his palm. “Two,” Randall said breathily.

The next blow landed on the upper right cheek. “Mm. Three,” Randall counted, voice thick.

Hamish brought his hand down in the same spot as the second blow, and Randall choked off a moan. “ _Four._ ” He slid his palm over the spot, rubbing the sting away, and then quickly slapped the other cheek along the crease of his thigh. Randall jerked beneath his hand, his breath catching. “Five,” he counted. He sounded _eager._

Hamish trailed his fingers delicately over the reddening flesh, his touch feather-light in contrast to the spanking. He delivered the next blow to the meatiest part of his left cheek, leaving his hand in place and appreciating how the skin heated beneath his touch. “Mr. Carpio?” he prompted.

“Six,” he bit out. He squirmed under Hamish’s touch. “Keep going, please.”

Hamish stroked his hand over the pink flesh. _Smack._ It sounded impossibly loud, and Hamish hoped the brick walls were doing enough to mitigate the sound, especially when Randall moaned. “Seven,” he said, rolling his forehead against the desk.

The eighth stroke landed just above Randall’s left thigh, and it drew another moan from him. “ _Fuuuck._ Eight.” Hamish loved the sound of pleasure in Randall’s voice, loved the way he was writhing against the desk, his body pressed to the surface where Hamish graded papers and wrote up his own research. Hamish could see his arms flex as he gripped the edge of the desk.

He delivered the penultimate blow right over the imprint of his first stroke, his fingertips snapping against Randall’s ass, his lip caught absently between his teeth as he watched the skin go white and then red. Randall practically sobbed, his breath hitching as he arched his back. “ _Nine_. Fuck, Hamish, it’s so good,” he cried, dropping the formalities as he pressed back into Hamish’s hand.

Hamish paused for a moment to appreciate the unexpected turn life had taken when he and Randall kissed in the pub months earlier just to escape their medicum wardens. He couldn’t have predicted how Randall’s mouth against his would set him on fire from the inside out, nor could he have predicted how easily they would _fit_ with one another after they fell into bed together. Sure, he’d had lovers before, male and female and that one feisty nonbinary religious studies scholar from a philosophy conference—but nobody had ever slotted into his life as easily as Randall, and nobody had ever approached all things sexual with such openness and enthusiasm, either. It wasn’t that Randall had no shame, exactly; rather, he very deliberately rejected the construct of shame, which led him to unabashedly follow the path of any curiosity or pleasure. It made him an exciting and generous lover, certainly, but it also made Randall the perfect antidote for Hamish’s tendency toward rigidity and order—or, as Lilith described it, his “giant stick up the ass.” He’d swapped the stick for Randall—who was, as it were, often up Hamish’s ass, and was, in fact, well-endowed if not precisely _giant_ —and everything was better for it. Case in point: Hamish had never _expected_ to have Randall bent over his office desk, his ass spanked pink and his hard cock no doubt leaking beneath him, but as Randall moaned his name in pleasure, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

He delivered the final stroke to the center of Randall’s left cheek, enjoying the slight rebound of it beneath the flat of his palm, soaking up the guttural moan that sounded like it was ripped straight out of Randall’s chest. “ _Ten_ ,” he exhaled, rolling his head toward Hamish, his eyes closed and his cheek pressed to the wood. His lips were parted, his breath quick; Hamish could think of no other way to describe the look on his face except _blissed out._

Hamish’s cock was so hard it ached in the confines of his pants, but he ignored it as he flipped Randall over, hitching him up onto the desk. Randall hissed as his ass came in contact with the desktop, but he sat anyway, grabbed Hamish by the shirt and pulled him in close. Hamish cupped Randall’s face delicately in his hands and whispered, “ _Randall_ ” against his lips, and it was Randall who closed the gap between them, brushing his mouth across Hamish’s, opening when Hamish’s tongue touched the seam of his lips. Hamish tilted his head to the side and opened to Randall, their tongues tracing the topographies of one another’s mouths. Hamish slid his fingers into Randall’s hair; Randall’s thighs parted as he pulled Hamish between them, hooking his fingers in the buttons of his waistcoat and literally _divesting_ him of it.

Hamish could practically taste Randall’s increasingly frantic desperation, and as Hamish kissed under the hinge of his jaw and and down his neck, Randall moaned, high and breathy. Hamish ran his nose along the edge of his ear and murmured, “You were so _good,_ Randall, you took it _beautifully_.” Randall shuddered under Hamish’s hands, his breath catching, and Hamish took Randall in his hand, fisting his cock, running his fingers over the head and spreading the precum down the shaft.

“ _Fuuuuck,_ Hamish,” Randall gritted out, thrusting up into his grip as much as he could. Randall’s fingers bit into Hamish’s shoulders, and he arched his head back as he groaned.

“So good… You deserve a reward,” he whispered against Randall’s ear as he slowly stroked his cock. Without warning, Hamish dropped to his knees and licked a long, wet line up Randall’s cock before he wrapped his lips around the head and took him in his mouth.


	2. Reward/ Reciprocity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blowjob! and Fucking!
> 
> (I am SO GOOD at chapter summaries. YES YOU CAN HIRE ME.)
> 
> Also I did rework the end of CH1 a little to make the break make a little more sense since I was REAL high on ambien when I posted it last time. Follow me for more killer writing tips!

“ _Fuck, Hamish, fuck,”_ Randall hissed. Hamish ran his palms up the back of Randall’s calves, up over his knees, flattening them across the tops of his legs, his thumbs hooking into the soft flesh on the insides of his thighs as he pressed Randall’s legs apart. As he did, he took Randall’s cock deep, savoring the taste of his skin as much as the filthy moan that spilled out of Randall. Randall tangled his fingers in Hamish’s hair, gripping gently, and said on a breath, “I’m not gonna last.”

Hamish hummed a vague noise of assent and ran a hand up Randall’s thigh. He wrapped it around the base of Randall’s cock and worked his hand and mouth in tandem up and down, flicking his tongue along the ridge of the head with every upstroke. Randall leaned back, one hand still in Hamish’s hair, the other bracing him against the desk, and he angled his hips toward Hamish, giving him more room to move. Hamish loved the sounds Randall was making, tiny sighs and little bitten-off moans that Hamish could tell he was trying to keep quiet. _I am sucking Randall off in my office,_ he thought suddenly, and the absurdity of it made him want to laugh. Instead he hollowed his cheeks and twisted his fist, his tongue laving the underside of Randall’s cock; Randall’s fingers fisted in his hair as he moaned, “Yessss, Hamish, _goddamn,_ your mouth is _incredible.”_ Randall’s fist tightened in his hair, his body stiffening as he arched his back, and with a strangled shout he came, the hot, bitter-salt spurt of it flooding Hamish’s mouth. Hamish swallowed around him, his hand still pumping him through the pleasure, gentling as Randall spent himself and his body began to relax.

He looked up to find Randall staring down at him fondly, looking half-drunk, a dopey smile on his face, and he swiped his tongue across Randall’s slit and pulled back. A thin thread of moisture stretched between Hamish’s bottom lip and Randall’s dick, and he loved the way Randall’s expression sharpened, eyes heating as Hamish held his gaze and caught it on his tongue, leaning in and brushing that tongue lightly across the tip of his cock before curling it back into his mouth. A smug grin tugged at Hamish’s lips.

Randall narrowed his eyes, his own smile shifting rapidly from fucked-out to turned-on. “I must say, Professor Duke, that was _quality_ work. Very _thorough_. Lots of… follow through,” he said, his voice teasing, yet full of promise.

Hamish climbed gracefully to his feet, stepping close to Randall until his thighs brushed the edge of the desk. He leaned over him, hands gripping Randall’s hips, and he licked softly across the seam of Randall’s lips before kissing him properly, his tongue sliding into Randall, the wet heat of their mouths meeting. He pulled Randall’s hips to him until their bodies were flush, his aching cock pressing into the heat of Randall. Randall rolled his hips against him as he kissed back fiercely, chasing the taste of himself in Hamish’s mouth as his hands made quick work of unbuttoning Hamish’s shirt and stripping it from his shoulders, fingertips dragging down the smooth planes of Hamish’s back. Hamish could feel Randall’s cock thickening already, frustratingly separated from his own by too many layers.

“It’s too bad I don’t keep lube in my office, Mr. Carpio, or I would show you just how _thorough_ I can be,” Hamish murmured against Randall’s skin. He canted his hips into Randall’s body and then bit down on his neck, just below his ear, and as he licked over the indentations left by his teeth, Randall moaned and dug his nails into Hamish’s skin.

“Well, it just so happens that I’m _a genius,_ ” Randall said, the breathiness in his voice undercutting his sarcastic tone. He reached down to fumble with Hamish’s desk drawer, sliding it open and feeling blindly inside as he got his mouth around Hamish’s nipple, sucking and licking at it as he rooted around in the drawer. “Aha!” he said triumphantly, leaning back as he held a bottle up for Hamish’s inspection.

Hamish pulled back to focus on the object Randall had thrust toward him. _Sliquid Natural Intimate Lubricant,_ the label read, and at the bottom in a script font it said _green apple._

Hamish blinked. He opened his mouth to say something, but he paused, his eyes flicking between Randall’s wide grin and the bottle. He squinted at Randall, tilting his head slightly as he asked, “Green apple?” with more than a hint of bewilderment in his voice.

“ _Ob_ viously,” Randall said, his head bobbing, his grin growing. “Get it? An _apple_ for the _teacher?”_ he said, his eyes bright.

Hamish stared at him, momentarily dumbfounded, before he shook his head and snorted. “What is it with you and flavored lube?” he asked rhetorically, plucking the bottle from Randall’s hand and flipping the top open with his thumb.

He was so worked up, even the _click_ of the lid seemed erotic.

Randall just smiled filthily at him as he leaned back and slowly stroked his cock with one hand, bringing himself back to fully erect. _Thank god for diminished refractory periods,_ Hamish thought to himself as he watched.

“Well, Mr. Carpio, I suppose your forethought should be rewarded.” Hamish drizzled some lube over his fingers, rubbing the slickness between his thumb and forefinger as Randall watched. He hooked his free hand under Randall’s knee and pulled it up and to the side, and with his slicked up fingertips he reached down, brushing them lightly along Randall’s perineum, sliding back until they met the soft skin of his hole. Randall’s breath caught; he leaned back further and opened his legs wider, the invitation clear. Hamish circled Randall’s rim with his forefinger, watching as Randall’s head dropped back, his mouth open. He pressed in gently, eliciting a moan from Randall, and he slid his finger into the insane heat of Randall’s body, but he was met with far less resistance than he expected. He pressed in, all the way past his knuckle, twisting his hand as he asked softly, “Randall, did you stretch yourself before I got here?”

Randall pushed into him, back arching, his cock thick and full against his stomach. “Mayyyybe,” Randall breathed, his eyes closed.

Hamish made a _hmm_ of assent and then hooked his finger just so, the pad of it brushing directly across his prostate, pressing against it. “Fuck,” Randall hissed as his cock jerked. Hamish stroked across it once more, relishing how Randall’s breath hitched, at the moan that fell from his open lips, and then he pulled his hand free, stepping back from the desk. Randall whined, but he waited until Randall’s eyes focused on his.

“Since you don’t need to be prepped…” Hamish said, his voice low, toeing his shoes off one at a time, “then I suppose we can move straight to your… _extra credit_.” His hands moved to his belt, pulling it open, and he popped the button of his trousers and slid the zipper down, Randall’s eyes tracking the movement. Hamish slid his fingers under the waistband of his boxer briefs and slid them down his hips, dropping it all to the floor, his cock slapping against his belly as it sprang free. As Randall watched intently, he ran his fingers up the underside of it, circling the head and catching some precum on his index finger. “Come here, Randall.”

Randall immediately slid off the desk, stepping toward Hamish, stopping about a foot away. Hamish raised his hand, two fingers extended toward Randall. “Taste me,” he commanded, and Randall eagerly closed his mouth around Hamish’s digits, his tongue sweeping across and between them, his mouth wet and hot as he sucked. “Good boy,” Hamish whispered, pulling his fingers away.

Randall whimpered.

Hamish pursed his lips in a half-smile, and then he stepped out of the clothes pooled at his ankles, kicking them aside and walking the few steps to his desk chair. He turned and sat, his back curved and his knees falling open, and using the fingers Randall had just sucked, he pumped his cock with them as Randall watched, rapt. “Mr. Carpio,” he said, his voice tight and deliberate, his hand moving slowly along his shaft, “I want you to come over here and fuck yourself on my cock.”

Randall bit his lip and reached behind him without looking to grab the bottle of lube. He stepped forward, dispensing a liberal amount onto one hand before dropping the bottle and reaching out for Hamish’s cock, knocking Hamish’s hand aside. Hamish hissed as the cold liquid met his skin, but Randall fisted him with a firm, slick grip, pumping him slowly, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Hamish grabbed Randall’s hips as Randall straddled him, enjoying the heat of their skin where it touched, especially as Randall rubbed himself sinuously against Hamish’s lap. Randall gripped Hamish’s shoulders and did it again, rolling his hips so their cocks slid against one another, the friction both delicious and not enough. Hamish’s fingertips dug into Randall’s hips, leaving bruises that he knew would fade far too soon.

“Hold yourself steady?” Randall asked softly, voice tight, and Hamish took hold of his cock, slick and faintly apple scented, as Randall steadied himself with his grip on Hamish’s shoulders and lined himself up. He sank down slowly, rising and then lowering himself again on an exhale that turned into a moan. Hamish gritted his teeth and tried to stay still, fighting the urge to fuck up into the tight heat of Randall’s body as it parted to let him in. He moved his hand as Randall slowly bottomed out, his ass finally coming to rest against Hamish’s thighs, and he slid his hands around Randall’s back, forcing himself to stay still and let Randall adjust. “Fuck, Ham,” he panted, tentatively rolling his hips, “you feel so _good_.” Randall slid one hand to the back of Hamish’s neck and leaned forward, rocking his body against Hamish, who slid his hands down to Randall’s ass and squeezed. Hamish held Randall as he slid further down in the chair, changing their angle so Randall had more room to move. Randall took full advantage, finding a rhythm, slow and torturous at first until Hamish _growled,_ then finally speeding up, the soft _slaps_ of their skin mingling with the building cadence of their breath.

Hamish was staring intently at where their bodies met, watching himself disappear over and over into Randall, but when he looked up and saw Randall watching his face he could feel a grin stretch his lips and felt his eyes flash silver. Randall bit off a moan and ducked his head to kiss Hamish frantically, their mouths slick against each other, teeth clicking together as Randall moved. It was messy and primal and _perfect_ , and Hamish could feel his orgasm building, slowly growing, starting to stretch up his legs and through his chest. “God, Randall, you look so good taking my cock,” he bit out, snapping his hips to fuck up into Randall as much as he could.

“Yeah?” Randall asked breathlessly, his back arching and cock bouncing as he rode Hamish.

“Yeah, baby,” he exhaled. “You gonna come for me?” he asked, wrapping a hand loosely around Randall’s cock.

Randall moaned, rocking his hips faster. “ _Fuck._ I am now,” he said, thrusting himself into Hamish’s grip, the precum leaking from his slit slicking the way.

Hamish held off as long as he could, which was about five more thrusts into the impossible heat of Randall’s body, and then it hit him broadside, his orgasm collapsing down into one bright singularity before exploding outward, wave after wave of pleasure radiating out from his pelvis and washing through his body, rebounding through him. Randall’s name spilled from his lips, and even to his own ears it sounded reverent, _holy,_ caught somewhere between a prayer and a plea. He distantly felt Randall’s hands tighten around his shoulders and then felt the heat of Randall’s pleasure spill over his fist and stripe his chest, thick spurts of cum landing on him as Randall cried out, his head thrown back and mouth agape.

It was so fucking _beautiful._

Hamish could feel his heart pounding, hear Randall’s answering heartbeat in his ears. His orgasm was slowly dissipating, but rather than leaving him hollow, his body felt light and lissome, full instead of a different kind of pleasure. He stared at Randall in wonder, watched as his pleasure played across his face, swirled through his body, reveled in the soft smile that slowly appeared on his mouth. Randall sighed, a deep, pleased sound that Hamish could feel everywhere their bodies still touched. He slowly opened his eyes, smiling down at Hamish with a bare affection, and before Hamish could form a rational thought he felt himself in motion, grabbing Randall by the hips as he resettled in the chair, sitting up and grasping Randall’s cheek and kissing him, his lips sliding across Randall’s as he licked into his mouth and then sucked Randall’s bottom lip between his own, biting gently and then licking. Randall kissed him back, his hands tangling in Hamish’s hair, humming against his mouth as their kisses slowed, bumping his nose against Hamish’s with a soft smile on his face.

Hamish ran his thumb over Randall’s cheekbone. “I love you,” he said, voice quiet but steady.

Randall stilled, blinked. He stared at Hamish, his mouth ajar. Finally, in a small voice, he said, “You do?”

Hamish smiled. He leaned forward and brushed his lips softly across Randall’s, a delicate ghost of a kiss. “I do. I love you, Randall Carpio.” He kissed him again, gently, along the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to say it back, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way.” He brushed another soft kiss to the other corner of his lips. “But I wanted you to know,” he said quietly.

Randall watched him with an unreadable expression for a moment, and then a smile stretched across his face, filling his eyes. He pressed his forehead to Hamish’s, nudged his nose. “I love you, Hamish,” he said softly into the space between them, his tone earnest. “I love you, too.”

Hamish smiled, his hands caressing Randall like something precious, and he leaned in to kiss him again, just because he could, because he loved Randall and Randall loved him, because he wanted to kiss him just for kissing’s sake. Randall seemed fine with the situation, his hands stroking softly along Hamish’s arms and neck and chest. Drawing back slightly, Hamish looked up into Randall’s eyes, ran one hand through his wiry curls, dragging his fingertips lightly down his spine. Randall’s made a contented _hmmm_ ing sound under his breath. “I’m keeping you,” he said, pressing a chaste kiss to the underside of Randall’s jaw.“You and your questionable taste in lubricants,” he murmured, ghosting his lips across Randall’s warm olive skin.

“Excuse you,” Randall said with mock indignation, “my _taste_ in lubricant is _amazing.”_ He nudged Hamish. “Get it? My _taste?”_

Hamish groaned, shaking his head slightly. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked, rolling his eyes.

Randall grinned unashamedly and squeezed his shoulders. “Anything you want, Professor Duke.”

. . .

After cleaning up as best they could, they slipped out of the office, Hamish locking the door behind him, this time with the key. As they walked down the hall, hands occasionally brushing, Hamish realized that everyone they passed was staring at them, some from inside their offices, some lingering in the doorways. He and Randall turned the corner toward the elevator and Hamish saw his office neighbor walking toward them, cup of coffee in hand. “Duke!” The guy grinned, raising his mug in a mock salute. “And here I thought you were uptight! Get some!” he said, laughing.

Hamish grabbed Randall’s hand and dragged him to the stairwell instead, and they descended quickly, bursting through the door on the ground floor and out into the snowy twilight. Randall stopped and looked up into the sky at the snow as it fell, his clear, bright laugh ringing out into the air. Hamish ground to a halt as he noticed the snowflakes that had landed on the dark fringe of Randall’s eyelashes.

He leaned in and kissed him again, just because he could.

Randall smiled, his hand grasping the lapel of Hamish’s peacoat. “What’s the rush, big guy?” he asked, voice teasing.

“We have to get to the Temple,” he said, kissing him quickly once more and grabbing his hand, entwining their fingers.

“What for?” Randall asked, his fingers squeezing Hamish’s.

“We have to cast a _Respondeo_ so everyone on my floor forgets they heard me spanking and then blowing and then fucking my hot undergraduate boyfriend,” he said, pulling Randall behind him.

Randall laughed again, the sound filling Hamish with joy. “Awww. You think I’m hot!”

Hamish laughed too, squeezing Randall’s hand, and they walked together into the snowy night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look, I accidentally wrote 4000 words of porn.  
> Obviously this is the best and most productive use of my time, yes?
> 
> Why Randall's penchant for flavored lube? I DON'T KNOW. It's just my headcanon.
> 
> I realized while writing this that part of why I love Randall is that he has Intense Stiles Energy, and I am down with this thought.
> 
> THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE, and FUCK NETFLIX for not giving us a S3.

**Author's Note:**

> Another chapter in the next day or two.
> 
> Did I write all this because I was amused by the idea of Randall's safeword being cinnamon? Maybe.
> 
> Also gifted to HeyAfrica because A) she did the TWxOrder crossover I so desperately desired, and B) because she said she would edit my dissertation MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!


End file.
